Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
“But if you would only listen!” I stomp my foot and then promptly wish I hadn’t. Immaturity may work on other men, but not on him.
Ashland lingers in the doorway of his chambers. “I’ve heard enough. The answer is no. I’d be a fool to trust you with a sword after you tried to flee last night.”
“Consider it a token of goodwill. If you let me take Neriene after training, I could do some light exercises in my chambers at night. This place is getting dull. Even the dungeons were more entertaining than this.”
“I said no.”
“Fae above! I’d even settle for a ball at this point!”
“I’ve already compromised too much by letting you train at all. Believe me, if Valora hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be doing that either. But unfortunately, even hounds grow disobedient when they’re locked in the kennels and not exercised.”
“As much as I just love you comparing me to a dog, it’s not enough… exercise for lack of a better word.”
“Then take a walk—”
Valora rounds the corner of the corridor; she’s wearing tan boots with white leather pants and a cotton overshirt. “Will you two please lower your voices?” Her braided pink hair parts to reveal deep lines etched into her forehead, and her gait is heavy. She’s not happy. Not at all.
Ashland’s scowl deepens. “Gladly—”
“The commanders have been gossiping all morning. After that drama last night, you two are all they can talk about, and they aren’t entertained.
They’re right pissed off. I couldn’t even get them to focus on the next battle plans or the new ammunition—that took me weeks to source.
Some of them are even threatening to take their bannermen home. ”
My gaze swivels from Valora, standing there with her hands on her hips, to Ashland, staring out the corridor window.
“It’s not my fault,” I say, shrugging.
“You’re both to blame. Running around here like straight fools. Now Priapus is spreading rumors and rallying the others.”
“Rumors about what?” Ashland snaps.
Valora’s fingertips tap on her hips one by one. “They say Lady Tabitha isn’t on our side and isn’t providing us truthful information. They think the next battle will be a bloodbath—that we’re letting empathy drag us to ruin and that you’re too busy chasing skirts to take this war seriously.”
Ashland groans, his eyes hardening as he peers out the window at the bay of naval ships floating in the water. The weak morning sunlight reflects off the small, rolling waves.
“I warned you.” I point at Ashland. “I warned you that if you permitted Adele into your affections, they’d become suspicious. And now see this?”
He doesn’t bother turning or looking at me as his voice drags. “And what of you running off into the woods like some spoiled princess because of an imagined slight? You don’t think your actions played a role?”
My mouth drops open to curse at him.
What an—
“Hush,” Valora interjects. “What matters is that if you don’t fix it, we’re going to have more than a few problems. We’re going to have an army that’s missing.”
I bite my lip, swallowing the disdain for a long moment. “I suppose we could be more doting to each other at dinner tonight,” I offer, wanting to be done with this conversation. I don’t need any more reminders of what happened last night than the one already standing right in front of me.
“No. It’s going to have to be much more convincing than that,” Valora demands with a bob of her head.
“This is going to take two parts. First, we must assure them that Tabitha’s passions truly lie with the Witch-King, and Ashland, you must remind the commanders of their reasons for not surrendering. ”
I sigh, knowing this convincing will ultimately fall to me. Acting isn’t one of Ashland’s strengths.
“What are you suggesting?” asks Ashland, finally turning around, his black armor catching a glint of the sunlight like a warning.
Valora nods toward the window and the bay beyond it. “Take her into a rowboat. This needs to look natural—an accident—when we find you. You’ll have to hurry. They’re heading out to inspect the new cannons any minute.”
“A rowboat? I don’t think I understand.” My voice sounds from behind them, but they don’t pay any attention to me.
“When we find you, you’d better have fewer clothes on than you do now, and it had best seem realistic. Do you hear me?” Valora admonishes.
I gasp, “Wait a minute!”
“Go! Now! The commanders are finishing their midday meal and leaving soon.”
Ashland lets out an annoyed grunt and grabs me by the wrist, yanking me down the corridor and away from the direction of the dining hall. I’m still trying to understand what is going on despite the pieces falling into place.
“Okay, okay,” I hiss. “Let me go. I’m not going to run away.
Stop, you’re doing this all wrong. Someone might be watching.
” I dig in my heels, and he’s forced to stop.
I intertwine my fingers with his, our hands locking together.
My palm immediately starts to itch and grow clammy.
I desire nothing more than to pull away, but nothing can be done about it.
Ashland eyes me warily as we exit the castle and cross the grounds. Once we’re in view of the courtiers and guards, he drapes his arm around my shoulders as we stroll down to the bobbing rowboats moored at the empty shore.
Selecting one, he motions me toward it. “This one will do.”
My heart begins to race.
Whether it’s fake or not, I’m not sure how I feel about being so near him after he tackled me in the forest last night. After we—
“Any day now.”
I sniff and raise my skirts, avoiding the tide. Ashland hoists me by the waist and tosses me into the boat. To avoid nearly falling over the side, I splay my arms out wide, and unfortunately, I don’t miss the smirk on his face as he climbs in next to me.
Ashland positions the oars, and we’re off, farther into the sea with each stroke of his long arms, his armor rustling slightly. The sun has dipped behind the relentless clouds, the afternoon taking on a slight gray hue—muted.
He stops.
We’re alone, surrounded by choppy water as the boat lolls back and forth, stealing the steadiness from my stomach. Naval ships dot the distance in one direction, and the castle appears miniature, raised on the hill in the other.
“Now what?”
Ashland clears his throat.
“Switch seats with me.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
“Fine, although I don’t see why where we sit matters.”
I awkwardly move across the rowboat and trade places with him, our torsos brushing in the tight space. Except he doesn’t sit. Instead, he picks up his rickety bench seat. “Lift your legs,” he orders.
I don’t argue this time, wondering what he’s planning. My legs rise, and he shoves the bench up against my seat, making the belly of the boat twice as deep. With a ripple of fabric, he unfastens and unfurls his cloak, laying it on the bottom of the expanded footboard.
Realization dawns on me that I’m expected to lie with him, and my stomach flips. I haven’t even fully processed what happened between us the night before, and now—
Peering upward, I watch as Ashland struggles to take off his chest and shoulder armor. He sees me looking and turns away, his ears turning red.
I stand up and softly offer, “Here, let me help.”
“There’s no need.”
Ashland struggles again for a moment before wordlessly dipping down for our height difference. I begin to unlatch his armor for him, piling the metal pieces under the bench seat as best I can.
He then removes his gambeson and undershirt. The dark hair on his muscled chest takes me by surprise, and it’s my turn to look away, cheeks heated.
His frown deepens before he says, “Let’s not make this into something it’s not. Valora said to get undressed, and I won’t risk losing my bannermen over prudish pride.”
I swallow, hesitating for only a second before attempting to reach the laces of my bodice in the back of my gown.
With the exception of my first night as his courtesan, I can usually figure a way out of my more difficult clothing in the privacy of my chambers.
Standing on a precariously rocking rowboat is another matter entirely, however.
Our eyes meet, and I sheepishly whisper, “Your turn.”
Ashland clears his throat as I turn around. I feel his breath on my neck while his fingers gingerly pull my green velvet gown loose. The fabric slips off my shoulders, and he grazes my back with his hand.
“Ah, my apologies.” Ashland clears his throat again.
“Never mind that.” I slip out of my clothing until only my petticoats and stays remain. I stand there not knowing what to do, feeling exposed.
But he pays me no mind as he removes his leg armor, leaving only his padded chausses before lowering himself to lie down on the cloak. A few moments pass, and then he says, “Now hand me that gown.”
My brow quirks up, but I hand it to him as I lower myself to sit on my knees beside his sprawling form.
He proceeds to crumple it beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. “Not exactly comfortable down here,” he grumbles.
I scrunch up my face at the thought of one of my favorite gowns smelling like fish guts and seaweed.
Ashland places his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He looks almost peaceful, as if he’s asleep. One eye squints open.
“What?”
Just then, a choppy wave sends a chilly spray against my back, making my face scrunch up as I arch my spine. Ashland lets out a hearty chuckle. “That’s what you get for trying to set my back ablaze last night.”
My eyes flash at him.
I cross my arms, but he pulls me down onto him—an awkward shuffling of our bodies, one of the least romantic encounters I’ve ever had.
At last, my head is comfortably positioned in the nook of his arm.
I tilt my neck to see his face. We are so close that I can see his raven hair shine, each wavy strand curling around the nape of his neck.
“Hopefully, they hurry,” I murmur, shifting so that I’m not putting too much weight on him. Though with my damp stays, this embrace is preferable to sitting out in the cold wind.